


Glass Houses

by TheVoiceNextdoor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Anal Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28536402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVoiceNextdoor/pseuds/TheVoiceNextdoor
Summary: Draco’s mild-mannered, quiet downstairs neighbor turned out to be neither of those things.  Draco reflected that the insulation really must be excellent, if he hadn’t heard the other man before.  Now, with windows open, there was nothing keeping him from hearing the desperate moans wafting up through the warm night air.-In which Draco overhears something unexpected.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 231





	Glass Houses

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't enlist my beta on this one, so please let me know if I missed any typos!

It was the weather that was to blame.

Draco had lived in the flat for nearly six months without a problem. He’d met his downstairs neighbor precisely twice: the day he’d moved in, when the landlady had knocked on the other door and the man had emerged, bleary eyed and bespectacled to be introduced, and two months later, when they’d nearly collided on their way out to get the paper.

They’d both been wearing dressing gowns, and Draco had gotten an eyeful of well-formed chest when his neighbor’s loosely tied belt had slipped as they dodged around each other. 

He was somewhat ashamed of the fact that, in his current state of absolutely abysmal singleness, the sight of one firm pectoral had been enough to send him back upstairs and into a cold shower.

He was much more ashamed of what happened when summer arrived.

There was no AC in the house - the landlady explained that he was welcome to install a window unit if he’d like to, but that since there were only a few days a year that were uncomfortably warm she’d never bothered with central air. He could open a window, she said, that would usually do it.

He did.

So did his neighbor. 

Draco’s mild-mannered, quiet downstairs neighbor turned out to be neither of those things. Draco reflected that the insulation really must be excellent, if he hadn’t heard the other man before. Now, with windows open, there was nothing keeping him from hearing the desperate moans wafting up through the warm night air. 

The first night, Draco listened closely for the sounds of the man’s partner. A whisper of fabric must be her hair sliding over a pillowcase; a particularly sharp inhalation must be her muffled gasp of pleasure. 

The second night, he was impressed by the regularity of their sex routine. 

The third, he had to consider another possibility: that no couple would fuck at exactly 9:10 every night, and that the most likely explanation was that his neighbor was having a particularly satisfying wank.

That realization made the evenings almost unbearable. Draco closed his eyes, and all he could see was the dressing gown gaping open as the other man writhed under his own stroking hand. Or glasses knocked askew as he ground into the mattress, desperately seeking the friction that would push him over the edge.

On the fourth morning, Draco woke with a raging erection and dealt with it as quietly as possible in the shower. 

On the fifth night, his resolve gave out and he stroked himself in time with the creaking mattress downstairs. When he heard the choked whine from below him, he shot onto his own belly.

It became a strange routine. He’d lie on his bed in darkness, waiting for the moans to begin, already hard in anticipation before the first telltale sounds began to filter up to him. He’d stroke himself slowly - the other man took his time - letting the pleasure build and imagining what might be happening below. 

The night he recognized the sound of a vibrator, he came in less than a minute. 

That realization opened up a new realm of possibilities for Draco’s imagination. A cock ring buzzing around his base as he stroked. A bullet vibe tracing gentle circles around his head. A plug being slowly, painstakingly worked into his ass.

Every wet sound could be a sliding hand or a toy being inserted. Every moan could be caused by any number of actions. Draco let his mind run wild, imagining the other man fisting his cock as he bounced on a dildo or thrusting into a sleeve while a plug vibrated unceasingly against his prostate. 

But he never imagined himself there with him. It felt like a line that couldn’t be crossed, somehow, as though it were in some way more respectful to imagine the man getting himself off in a thousand ways than it would be to insert himself into the imaginary narrative.

And then, one day in August, he heard his own name.

His neighbor had been working slowly that evening, a symphony of deep, visceral moans that had pushed Draco over the edge once already. He suspected that the other man was edging himself, working himself into absolute desperation. The thought had Draco stirring back to life in no time. 

And then the moans had built to a new height, until their source cried out a muffled but still totally understandable “Draco!”

Draco had to grip the base of his cock almost painfully tightly to stop the tidal wave that threatened to take him with him. 

It took him embarrassingly long to put the pieces together, something he optimistically ascribed to his blood supply being occupied so far away from his brain. Draco’s name was on his mailbox, something that his neighbor had not only noticed but bothered to read. Draco’s name was on his mailbox, and his neighbor not only knew it but had also just moaned it as he fucked himself. 

He was in joggers and down the stairs before he thought the next step through. He was reading the other mailbox when the man answered. 

Harry Potter. A good name.

Harry Potter was decidedly pale, as though he was trying to calculate the odds of his neighbor just happening to knock on his door moments after he had called his name under suspicious circumstances. “Can I help you?”

Draco grinned, nearly dizzy with anticipation. “I rather thought I might be able to help you.”

When they stumbled into Harry’s room a moment later, Draco paused to reach over the headboard and pull the window closed. “No one’s going to hear you but me,” he said, knocking aside the frankly enormous dildo still lying on the bed to pull Harry towards him. The other man made a little squeak that Draco recognized, his legs parting obligingly to straddle Draco’s hips. Draco thrust experimentally up against him as they kissed, and Harry keened at the overstimulation so soon after his recent orgasm. After a moment, he was kissing his way down Draco’s chest, tugging down the joggers that Draco had so recently put on, and taking him in his mouth.

“Fuck--,” Draco fisted his fingers in the other man’s hair, hips thrusting involuntarily off the bed. “Christ,” he amended more calmly as the initial shock subsided and he could settle into the simple joy of another man’s tongue trailing down his length. Harry smirked up at him, glasses slightly askew and cheeks hollowed as he continued his work. 

“Can you see at all without these?” Draco tapped the temple of the glasses, knocking them further out of place. Harry shook his head, making Draco make a small and desperate sound as he hit the inside of Harry’s cheek. Then Harry was slipping out of the dressing gown, and Draco was distracted by running his hands over muscular shoulders.

Harry reached up to grab the bottle of lube abandoned by Draco’s arm, raising his eyebrows at Draco as he did so. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Draco choked out, letting one hand trail up to cup the back of Harry’s neck. “You or me?”

Harry didn’t move his mouth to answer, just smiled up at him again with those absurdly green eyes and reached back with a well-lubricated finger. The moan he let out as he slipped it into himself was positively sinful, vibrating through Draco in a way that made him wonder if he’d last long enough to enjoy Harry’s suggestion. Luckily, the dildo Draco had displaced when he’d arrived had clearly done its job well: it wasn’t long before Harry was pulling his mouth off of Draco with a pop, straightening his glasses in a gesture that was much better suited to a lecture hall than his current position, and clambering back on top of him.

“Yes?” He confirmed, hovering over Draco with his hands on his chest.

“Fuck yes,” Draco agreed, and then made a nearly inhuman noise as Harry settled down onto his length and began to move.

“You have,” said the other man with a particularly emphatic roll of his hips, “no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“I think I have a - oh, fuck - pretty good idea.” Draco’s hands went to Harry’s hips as he began to thrust in time with his motions. He’d imagined so many scenarios, alone in his bed, but none of his fantasies had come close to the sight of Harry riding him. 

The other man started to lose his rhythm, eyes glazing over slightly as he focused fully on the sensation. Draco lifted his hips off the bed, searching for the perfect angle. He knew he’d found it when Harry suddenly cried out, the familiar feral sound that Draco had heard drifting through the evening air so many times. He thrust into the suddenly vicelike grip of Harry’s body, feeling the hot splatter of the other man’s release across his chest, and came hard.

They stayed like that for several moments, catching their breath. Eventually, Harry slid off of him and flopped onto the bed. 

“Hi,” he said with a tentative smile.

“Hello, neighbor,” Draco grinned.


End file.
